All Good And Genuine Draftsmen

However Incoherent A Human Existence May Be, Human Unity Is Not Bothered By It.

To Be A Great Man And A Saint To Oneself, That's The Only Important Thing.

The Poet Is A Kinsman In The Clouds Who Scoffs At Archers, Loves A Stormy Day; But On The Ground, Among The Hooting Crowds, He Cannot Walk, His Wings Are In The Way.

Everything That Is Beautiful And Noble Is The Product Of Reason And Calculation.

Life Is A Hospital In Which Every Patient Is Possessed By A Desire To Change His Bed.